William Shakespeare Quotes
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If I could write the beauty of your eyes And in fresh numbers number all your graces, The age to come would say, 'This poet lies; Such heavenly touches ne'er touch'd earthly faces.'
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Stones have been known to move and trees to speak.
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I was born free as Caesar; so were you
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Now, my masters, happy man be his dole, say I; every man to his business.
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Virtue that transgresses is but patched with sin; and sin that amends is but patched with virtue.
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Here's flowers for you; Hot lavender, mints, savoury, marjoram; The marigold, that goes to bed wi' the sun And with him rises weeping: these are flowers Of middle summer, and I think they are given To men of middle age.
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A thousand moral paintings I can show That shall demonstrate these quick blows of Fortune's More pregnantly than words.
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There's a time for all things.
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Even through the hollow eyes of death I spy life peering.
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You have lost no reputation at all, unless you repute yourself such a loser.
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We bring forth weeds when our quick minds lie still.
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I have thought some of Nature's journeymen had made men and not made them well, they imitated humanity so abominably.
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Beauty within itself should not be wasted.
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If you spend word for word with me, I shall make your wit bankrupt.
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A man cannot make him laugh - but that's no marvel; he drinks no wine.
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You may my Glories and my State depose, But not my Griefes; still am I King of those.
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The band that seems to tie their friendship together will be the very strangler of their amity.
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Hold, or cut bowstrings.
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I can call spirits from the vasty deep.
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I have not slept. Between the acting of a dreadful thing And the first motion, all the interim is Like a phantasma, or a hideous dream: The Genius and the mortal instruments Are then in council; and the state of man, Like to a little kingdom, suffers then The nature of an insurrection.
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Where shall we three meet again in thunder, lightning, or in rain? When the hurlyburly 's done, when the battle 's lost and won
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Shorten my days thou canst with sullen sorrow, And pluck nights from me, but not lend a morrow; Thou canst help time to furrow me with age, But stop no wrinkle in his pilgrimage.
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Thou weigh'st thy words before thou givest them breath.
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Make passionate my sense of hearing.